American Vandal: more than just a dick joke

by Annie Cooper

If a four-hour dick joke doesn’t sound like your idea of a good time, you’re not alone. However, while the premise of American Vandal is essentially one big dick joke, I recommend that you don’t dismiss the show too soon. Netflix’s new mockumentary lampoons true crime shows by focusing on a much less serious ‘crime’– the act of 27 cars being vandalised with spray painted dicks at the fictitious Hanover High School. Though the plot seems frivolous, the show succeeds in creating one of the most realistic, and funny portrayals of high school life on film in recent years, while simultaneously dismantling the true crime genre that saw shows like Making a Murder and Serial become so popular. The dick jokes, it seems, are the weakest aspect of what is actually a credible and engrossing satire.

The show opens with the main (and only) suspect, high school dropkick Dylan Maxwell who is brilliantly portrayed by YouTuber Jimmy Satro. Everyone thinks Dylan did it, as evidenced by interviews with his schoolmates who assert that “Dylan’s a burnout loser, of course he did it,” and that “he’s a fucking idiot.” His teachers, similarly, are convinced that he is the culprit, likely because his signature classroom prank is drawing dicks on the whiteboard. All signs point to Dylan, but the school’s budding filmmakers, Peter Maldonado and Sam Ecklund (portrayed by Tyler Alvarez and Griffin Gluck, respectively) are not convinced. After noticing a crucial difference between the pictures on the cars, and those drawn by Dylan (e.g. the absence of ‘ball hair’), Peter and Sam set out to uncover the truth.

The whole series is presented as if it were actually filmed and produced by Peter and Sam, with the opening titles stating that this series comes from Netflix “in Association with the Hanover High School TV Department,” and an executive producer credit going to “Mr. Baxter.” Though the production value is somewhat too sophisticated to realistically come from high school students, the shows actors were encouraged to ad lib and film their own videos on Snapchat, which were then included in the series. The inclusion of ad lib scenes was a clever one, and likely contributed to the notably realistic characterisation of the teenagers in the show, a definite highlight of the series. The show has all the typical characters found in high school dramas, but never feels too cliché or formulaic (unlike Riverdale, or Netflix’s own 13 Reasons Why). Each character adds something different, from Dylan’s grown up counterpart, Mr. Kraz (“I’m not going to say that one of my students is unbelievably hot”, he told the interviewer, “but oh my god, dude.”) to pathological liar Alex Trimboli, whose outrageous claims were also subject to investigation throughout the series.

Though the show’s first two episodes could easily be written off as childish, it soon progresses into an immersive mystery as the investigation heats up. Each new piece of information launches a dozen theories, with the meaning behind the two y’s in a texted ‘heyy’ just as thought provoking as an uncovered, fraudulent car repair bill. The inherent flaws within the true crime genre are touched on as well. Most notably near the series end, as Peter must face the fact that his motivations behind uncovering ‘the truth’ were just as selfish as those in front of the camera, and that he had ruined lives in the making of the film.

Similarly, an argument that takes place between Peter and Sam allows Vandal to really come into its own as a satire. After realising that they will need to investigate each other, the pair struggle to come to grips with their own biases as documentarians.  Sam is unwilling to conduct a proper investigation on Peter due to their closeness, whereas Peter’s contentious investigation of Sam leads to the realisation that he is not applying the same logic to Dylan as he does everybody else. Though subtle, the scene highlights some of the strongest criticisms of the true crime genre. The pair are forced to consider their relationships with their subjects, and question if it’s even possible to show true objectivity about other people.

If you’ve watched Making a Murderer, or listened to Serial, you will be able to easily identify the parallels between them and American Vandal. It knowingly creates a commentary on the imperfections of the true crime genre, and the dangers of bias. However, it also succeeds in being possibly the best high school series that Netflix has commissioned thus far. Though American Vandal was not a profound mockumentary by any means, there’s something to be said about a show that had me asking repeatedly, “who drew the dicks?”